Zorro Meets his Match
Chapter 1 – The New Arrival
El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora Reina de los Angeles sobre El Rio Porciuncula
1821
Her name was Boudica Heceta.
Her unusual name was owing to her mixed heritage. Her father, an acrobat from Spain named Ysidro Heceta was Basque by blood. Her mother was English and has been part of the aristo class. Having been orphaned at a young age, she had become a teacher. However, prospects were few in Upstate New York, especially with little to know family backing.
While in town she had come across a notice in the local paper asking for a bride to come west and live in Spanish ruled California and be bride to a wealthy land owner's son. A chance at a new life.
Boudica had written a reply. She wished to be free of her distant family and this seemed a way to go about it. She tired of being told day in and day out that she was beholden to them for taking her in as a penniless orphan and helping fund her schooling to be a teacher. They treated her little better than a servant.
Though she did not know Spanish, the novohispanics of California spoke English and Mexican Spanish. She was told this was not a problem and could learn when she came. Her future husband had informed her he was willing to help her learn and had asked to what other skills she had. She replied she could cook, did natural healing, and loved to read.
He paid for her to come to the Pueblo by train and then by stage. It would take many days. She traveled three by train and then the rest by stage. Her rooms were paid for, but the extra money that he sent was taken by her uncle telling her he would use it to send the rest of her effects later. That was almost laughable since all she really possessed fit into two small bags.
After more than a week they were surrounded by natives. What was going to be a raid was stopped when Boudica called out, speaking to them in their own tongue, which surprised everyone on both sides. However, the Indians departed.
The girl had been two and a half days without food. Her stomach ached dully, but she had no money to buy anything having spend what she had already. She had a canteen of water, but it was now like the air, hot, and hardly helping cool her.
As the stage came over the hill and looked down into the valley where the pueblo sat, she was suddenly nervous. She chided herself. It was very silly to be afraid. She had come all the way across the country by herself and now as she knew she would meet her future husband and her future, her stomach knotted with nerves.
Her friends called her Bo, something her aristo family hated utterly about her. That and they felt her father had been so far beneath her mother for a marriage. He wasn't even a Spaniard. He was a Basque. However, his profession brought them a fair amount of money. He taught his daughter well at a young age. When the house fire had taken her family, she was saved by an older Indian man who came to trade with her father. She was eight and had been burned badly. He brought her to live with him. She lived with the native tribe, part of the Iroquois Confederacy for six years. She then returned to her mother's family, who took her in, liking the attention of having a wild child returning from the heathens. However, when she wished to be normal and not on display as a girl who survived being with the fierce natives, the papers soon lost interest.
She became a teacher and taught for a year at a mission school, helping translate books into the native language. It was good work, but paid next to nothing, and made her sink lower to her relations and also ruined her prospects for finding a "proper" husband.
Now, just passing her eighteenth year, she needed to find her own and discover who Boudica really was. Was she anything like her namesake, she wondered. Strong willed certainly, but what else?
The stage came to a halt in the town square. She used a paper to fan herself as she looked about. A guard opened the door and helped her out. Her bags were handed to her. The driver saw to getting the mail and then smiled.
"They will be here soon, Senorita." He told her.
She nodded and looked about. The women were wearing much more loose-fitting clothing. The men were wearing strange clothing. Nearly everyone had wide brimmed hats that were either on their heads or hanging from cords on their shoulders. She had a bonnet on and wore a large hoop skirt dress with long sleeves, thick petticoats, a high collar, and heeled shoes.
She looked about. She was a stranger in a strange land to be sure. She sighed moving to explore leaving her bags on the steps of a building.
She was tired, hungry, thirsty, and had a terrible headache.
She was also warm.
Very warm.
Diego de la Vega had made it his mission, as being the most eligible bachelor in los Angeles, to meet every girl in town to appease his father. He smiled at two Senoritas near him as he walked on the street. He heard something to his left and shifted. There were stairs there. He moved to look around the thick railing made of whitewashed clay and gasped seeing a young woman in distress. She was sitting on the staircase weeping, out of sight of everyone so no one would speak to her either.
It was nearly sundown. He could scarcely allow a young Senorita be alone, afraid, and unfriended. He was too much of a gentleman. "Buenas tardes, Senorita." He said gently as he came to stand before her. He saw she had two small bags beside her. She looked rumpled from travel. She had to have come by the stage that had left an hour ago.
He felt rather than saw Bernardo at his elbow. His valet, as dependable as ever was there, watching what was going on ready to help as needed.
She looked up, startled to see him there. Her eyes, were like the color of amethyst crystals from the minds. A very rare color. Her cheeks were flushed and though she wept, there were hardly any tears in her eyes. She blinked. "What?" She asked, voice hoarse.
"You are not from here are you?" He asked gently. He could see the wisps of red auburn hair that had managed to escape her bonnet. Her skin was lighter than his own, but still a delicate olive. She was very pretty and had an odd exotic quality to her.
She shook her head.
"Poor dulce. Come. Where were you going?"
"I do not know." She said.
"Pardon?" He asked, watching her. He could see that was the truth. She really didn't know.
"I came here to marry a man, but no one has come and it has been hours." She said which brought her hand to her face again as she sniffled.
"No one has come to help you?" He asked shocked and horrified.
"No." She said. She took a breath. "It is all right. I am used to being on my own."
"You are a child." He said.
"I am eighteen, sir." She said.
Okay so not a child, though she was very young looking. Still her body had fleshed into womanhood. Someone would be a happy man with her as a bride. He offered his hand. "Come. It is nearly sundown. We can see you to an inn and sort this out in the morning once you have rested."
"But I have no money for an inn sir." She said.
Again it was honest. He could not believe someone would abandon her. "Where have you come from, Senorita?"
"New York."
"So far." He said.
She nodded. "It has been a long journey sir."
"No wonder why you are tired." He bent closer. "I have money, Senorita. We will see you right."
She took his hand and faltered a little. He gently wrapped an arm about her. "Are you all right, little one?" He asked softly. She realized she did not even come to his shoulder and she tucked against him almost like a child as he held her steady. He was wearing green with golden braid, a hat sitting on his shoulders behind his neck, and he smelled of lemon, a spice she could not place, horses, and a lovely scent that had to be him. She looked up at him. He was tall, handsome, and lithe. He was being so kind to her. She almost burst into tears again.
"Yes." She said softly. "Just a little dizzy."
"We will get you settled and get you some food. When did you eat last?"
"Breakfast, yesterday."
That was a bald-faced lie. He blinked watching her. She had gone longer without food. But why? No money? "Senorita, it is no wonder you are dizzy. Come."
"But, Senor…" she tried her limited Spanish.
"I can't possibly impose on…"
He shook his head. "I will not let a Senorita be left out in the cold, hungry, and forgotten in the night, my dear." He said, voice having a cutting edge that left no room for arguments. He turned and gestured to Bernardo who nodded, lifting her bags.
"Is this all you have, Senorita?" He asked as Bernardo looked for more.
She nodded. "Si."
It was strange. She felt oddly safe with this man.
Diego gestured and Bernardo nodded.
"Why do you not speak to him?" She asked curiously.
"He is deaf and dumb since birth, Senorita, but a very good servant. His name is Bernardo."
She smiled at him. She waved at him. He beamed and waved back, nearly dropping a bag. She giggled and looked up at Diego who was looking on in amusement. "I like him." She said. She then looked up at her savior. "What is your name?"
He said his name far too quickly for her to even hear. She blinked. She looked up at him in confusion. He smiled. "It is a mouthful. You can call me Diego. What is your name then, Senorita? It is only fair."
"Boudica."
"That is an unusual name, especially for here. Is that an American name?"
She shook her head. "No, Senor. It is a old name from England. A warrior queen's name."
He chuckled. "That is strangely fitting."
"Thank you."
Diego tucked her hand into his elbow and walked down the street to the inn. "Here we are." He moved to where the innkeeper stood behind the bar. "Senor. This young Senorita is in need of a room, a meal, and a lovely bath before bed." He reached into his vest and pulled out coins, paying in full. "I will pay for as long as she stays here."
"Si Don Diego." Jose said. He lifted a key. "Room 4 is the most private. At the end of the hall."
"Gracias." Diego said. He moved back to collect the girl who had taken an offered drink of cool water. She only managed a couple swallows as it hurt her throat.
He nodded to Bernardo and walked with her up the stairs and to the room that was away from the tavern commotion. He moved to unlock the door. The girl leaned against the wall, suddenly very warm and faint feeling. She needed to lay down she felt. Her tongue felt huge and swollen in her mouth and her throat hurt.
Diego opened the door and bowed to her to walk in before him. As she stepped in, she took two steps and then dropped heavily to her knees and then fell forward unconscious.
Diego had turned to Bernardo, but hearing her fall he moved, kneeling beside her. Bernardo dropped her bags in the hallway and moved to assist his master. Diego rolled her over onto her back as he sat on his knees. He felt her neck. Her skin was hot and dry. She had a pulse, but it was very fast and her breaths were shallow. He gasped lifting his hand to her brow. No sweat. On this hot of a day, he was sweating for sure when not in the shade.
She was burning up.
Instantly he knew what was the matter.
"Bernardo, fetch the doctor. Our little Senorita is dying of sun stroke. Send the innkeeper as up here! Quickly!" Diego barked.
Bernardo nodded, moving to do as commanded as Diego shifted the limp inert form. Wrapping an arm around her back and another under her legs, he rose to his feet, bringing her into his arms. She was so small in his arms. He looked down at her. "Why didn't you tell us, Dulce?" He murmured. He then sighed. She had been telling him, in her way. She didn't know what was wrong, but her mannerisms. Weeping with no tears, her hunger, her thirst, but not being able to drink, her confusion, her weakness…it all made sense.
Holding her he could feel how hot she was. It was like holding a hot coal from the fire. He needed to cool her or she would die.
The innkeeper appeared. "Senor de la Vega? Your manservant signaled you had need of me."
"I need a bathtub and cold water, Senor. Hurry." Diego said laying the girl on the bed.
"Is the Senorita unwell?"
"Very ill. The heat." Diego said.
The man nodded and galvanized into action.
Diego then began to remove her heavy restrictive clothing. First her shoes. Her tiny feet fit in his hand. He sighed removing the stockings as well. Next the heavy thick petticoats and hoop skirt. That left her in her bloomers. He then turned his attention to her corset after pulling off the long sleeves jacket. He tried to unlace it, but was becoming frustrated. Using his boot knife, he gently cut the side like he was shucking an oyster, destroying it, but almost immediately, she sucked in a deeper breath.
She was in her shift and bloomers. He moved, fetching the water basin and pitcher from the small table by the window. He poured water into the basin and lifted the two clothes. He dunked one cloth in, wetting it, he wrung it out and put it on her hot brow. The second he began to wipe the bare skin of her arms and neck, trying to cool her, letting the air evaporate it to cool her skin. He dipped the cloth in again and then dabbed the tops of her lovely full breasts and his hand brushed something. He leaned closer and noticed that she had scars on her shoulder and side of her neck. They looked like burns. This girl had lived an interesting life for one so young.
The innkeeper arrived and began to fill the bathtub with cool water. The doctor arrived with Bernardo. Diego stepped back allowing the man to look her over.
"You are lucky you came upon her when you did, Don Diego." The doctor said. "She would not stand to be this warm too long."
Diego nodded. "I was going to dip her into the water to let her body cool since I do not have a river to do it in." He said thinking back to when he had been a boy and they had done that to a sheepherder who had lost his way and become sick with sun stroke. It cooled him enough to survive.
The doctor nodded. "Wrap her in a sheet and do it, Don Diego."
He nodded and wrapped the sheet about her. He lifted her body once more and then set her in the water. Instantly, her body stiffened, a natural reaction to the change. He then let her body relax a little before he clapped his hand to her mouth and nose and ducked her under to cool her head. After two times he pulled her up and let her breath. He waited a few moments before doing it again.
He continued for nearly half an hour. He could feel the difference in her body temperature and looked up at the doctor. The doctor felt her brow and then nodded. "She is out of danger for now, though that was the worst case of sun stroke I have seen in some time." He said. He looked at Diego. "Can you stay with her Don Diego? Make sure she rests."
"Si." Diego nodded as he then lifted her, drenching himself in the process before taking her and lying her on the bed. He looked down at her. Her wet white clothing left little of her slight, but deliciously feminine body to his imagination. However, also visible as the cloth stuck to her chest, was black on her skin. He lifted the cloth.
The doctor noticed. "A tattoo?" He asked. "Why would a white woman have that?" He asked.
"You think it is Indian also then?" Diego asked.
"Si." The doctor said.
Diego traced a line that went from her collarbone to her armpit. "How strange. She has a great deal to tell us, this Senorita enigma we have."
"Do you know her, Senor?"
"No she came this afternoon by stage, but no one claimed her."
"So you are keeping her safe. She is a lucky Senorita to have caught your eye."
"I cannot let a weeping girl remain so when I can assist her, doctor."
"Indeed." The doctor said. "I will return in the morning. Keep her body warm, but her head cool." He advised.
Diego nodded. "Si."
He left and Diego looked at Bernardo. "Who is this small slip of a Senorita then?" He wondered.